


Wayfarers

by kijilinn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Ice Cream, Reader Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 18:01:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6576826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kijilinn/pseuds/kijilinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Sam Winchester stop for ice cream.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wayfarers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [deanwinchester-af](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=deanwinchester-af).



                “I would about kill for air conditioning.”

                “What are you whining about, Sammy, we’ve got air conditioning.”

                “We do not.”

                “Three-sixty A/C, baby. Three windows down at sixty miles an hour.”

                Sam closed his eyes in exasperation as Dean grinned and drummed his hands on the steering wheel of the Impala. “Could we please stop somewhere for a while?”

                “Fine, you baby.” Dean sighed and checked his mirrors before merging off the interstate and spiraling in the direction of the nearest town. “I think there’s still a bottle of water in the back.”

                “Drank it yesterday,” Sam replied with his eyes still closed.

                Dean huffed, then scanned the side of the road for a while. “There we go. Ice cream. How does ice cream sound to you?”

                “Like you’re still talking and not stopping,” Sam said.

                It was a hot enough day that the ice cream shop was full of people waiting in line, so Dean squeezed into a parking spot and the brothers took their place in line, studying the faces of people around them. “Five,” Dean murmured softly, tilting his chin toward a woman standing a few feet ahead of them.

                “She’s got great legs,” Sam replied. “Seven at least. How about her? Dark hair, red tips?”

                Dean scanned over the woman in question, then paused, his head tilted to the side. A thoughtful smile started to curl over his lips. “Hmm.” Sam raised an eyebrow and Dean’s grin widened, “Hard to tell from here. Need to get closer.”

                “Dean…” Sam started to protest, but his brother had already moved forward.

 

                You had just come up to the counter after waiting in line for almost twenty minutes for ice cream. The shop wasn’t usually this busy, but the day had been hot enough and the soft-serve machine at MacDonalds was broken. So, everyone in town was hunting for a fix. You had your heart set on something warmer than ice cream, though: this place happened to have the best brownie sundaes in the state.

                Just as you were turning a thousand-watt smile on the boy behind the counter and taking a breath to make your order, someone blundered into you from behind. “Son of a bitch, I’m sorry.” The man floundered backwards and raised his palms in surrender. “You okay? Sorry, two left feet today.”

                “No, it’s okay.” You tried to dispel your irritation and couldn’t help taking note of the handsome face, charmingly embarrassed smile, very nice arms framed by the rolled-up sleeves of his t-shirt. “You can make it up to me, though,” you smiled at him.

                “Yeah?” He seemed pleased by the thought and grinned confidently. “How might I do that?”

                “Brownie sundae,” you said to the counter cashier, who looked like he was watching someone take away his puppy, “on this gentleman’s tab.”

                “Make it two,” the guy smiled brilliantly and you felt your heart skip a beat. He was way too good looking to be from around here. While the cashier vanished to make your sundaes, your “clumsy” benefactor leaned on the counter to smirk at you, “I’m Dean.”

                “Y/N,” you replied with a smile. “Do you trip over yourself often or just when there’s ice cream involved?”

                “Only when there’s someone as pretty as you,” Dean mused.

                “So, only when you’re trying to skip in line.”

                Dean looked shocked, “I would never!” Someone farther back in line snorted audibly and Dean shot them an irritated look. The cashier brought your sundaes over and Dean shelled out the cash to cover them. “Can I talk you into eating with me?”

                “Maybe some other time,” you smiled at him. “I’d be afraid you’d get more hot fudge on your shirt than in your mouth, since you’re so selectively clumsy.”

                Dean opened his mouth a few times, then looked almost sullen as you turned and strode out of the ice cream shop, leaving him to eat his oversized sundae alone with Sam. “Damn. She was a ten, too.”

 


End file.
